Chapter 17 Kateřina
Ifeel a lot better. The fever dropped yesterday and didn’t rise again for the whole day today.
I hate to admit it, but after he left, I started feeling better.
Physically, at least, because mentally, I have been a mess.
I am pissed, actually. I can’t believe how low I’ve fallen that I allow a psycho killer to mess with my mind like this.
I can’t believe that I allowed myself to feel the tiniest positive feeling about him—the slightest desire.
Damn, the desire started getting stronger than I ever expected. Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I get him out of my head? Why can’t I stop thinking of his hands on me? His tongue on me. His fingers inside me …
God, Kate?ina, wake up!
He doesn’t deserve my lust or my attention. He’s just a cold-hearted, cruel vulture that keeps me trapped against my will. I’m surprised I still haven’t bumped into more poor women like me in his house.
Eleanor said he’s never done that before, but after all, I don’t think I can trust her.
I need to get out of my room and have a walk. Too much thinking will fry my brain.
I step out of my room, more confident this time, and walk to the kitchen. As always, the house looks quiet and deserted. Upon arriving in the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water and take a sip of it.
“Good afternoon, Miss.”
A male’s voice makes me gasp in fear.
“Who are you?”
“I apologize for scaring you. It wasn’t my intention,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “I am Grayson.”
I hold myself back. I don’t talk, but I can’t hide my curiosity, and I don’t prevent myself from studying him profoundly.
He doesn’t seem too old. He must be around Eleanor’s age, maybe a bit older.
He looks around fifty-five. His hair is gray and pulled back, and his face is glassy.
He doesn’t have many wrinkles, only around his eyes and a bit next to his lips, shaped by years of smiles.
“I am Miss R??i?ková,” I say decisively.
“Czech, huh? It seems like a magical country.” He smiles brightly, placing his hands behind his back.
Usually, this kind of gesture would make me jump in fear, but he doesn’t seem dark, twisted, or even dangerous. He looks like a good man.
But then again, that’s what I believed about Cain.
“It is.” My eyes lower, thinking of my country. I miss it. I miss how safe I felt there despite my parents.
He walks closer, making me take a few steps back. Unbothered, he reaches for a glass, pours water from the tap as well, and joins me for a drink.
He takes a slow sip of his water, watching me with a quiet kind of attentiveness. Not the kind that makes me uneasy, but one that feels patient. I dare say understanding, even.
“You must miss it terribly,” he says after a moment, his voice gentle. “Home has a way of staying with us, even when we’re far from it.”
I swallow, unsure how to respond. Most people overlook that. They ask where I’m from, nod politely, and move on. But he sees it.
“I do. It was peaceful there,” I finally admit.
He hums quietly with a faint smile. “Peace is a rare thing. Even rarer to recognize when you have it. I had a place like that once. A small house near the lake. My mother used to say the trees whispered secrets if you listened closely enough.”
I smile. “And did they?”
He chuckles. “Oh, absolutely. Though, as a boy, I was convinced they were just complaining about the weather.”
A small smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.
Grayson remains quiet for a while. He doesn’t push me to talk. He seems kind. The kindest I’ve met in this whole madness. He sets his glass down and leans slightly against the counter.
“You don’t trust people easily, right?” he asks.
I tense, my fingers tightening around my glass. “Should I?”
He exhales softly. “No. Not always. But I’ve found that trust isn’t about blind faith; it’s about knowing who’s worth the risk. And sometimes, you find those people in the most unexpected places.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. But for the first time in a long while, I don’t feel the immediate need to run.
He clears his throat. “LA has a beautiful side as well,” he says, stroking his clean-shaven chin. “City of angels.”
“I have to disagree with that. I’ve met a few demons here.”
He chuckles and then pauses, lowering his green eyes to the ground. “You know, sometimes demons make things in your life more interesting.”
I can’t help but wonder … does he know?
Of course he knows; everyone in here knows I am a psycho’s puppet.
“Patience, Miss R??i?ková.” He raises his eyes again on mine. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
I exhale slowly. Patience. As if I have a choice. As if freedom is something I can bargain with.
I need to change the topic and be straight with him. Maybe I’ll catch him off guard.
“Why does he keep me trapped here?”
“Cain always has a reason for what he does,” he states before even thinking about it, as if he doesn’t have to. As if he was waiting for my question.
I scoff, unable to believe what he says. “Do you excuse him?”
“I don’t. But I can understand him.”
“Can anyone actually understand him?”
“To me, he’s just a broken boy.”
“He’s not a boy,” I snap, my voice sharp with fury. “He’s a toxic man who kills and kidnaps without remorse.” My breath is uneven, my hands trembling. “There’s nothing broken about him. He’s the devil in the flesh!”
Grayson shows no reaction to my words. He watches me, calm and unshaken.
“The devil,” he repeats. “Perhaps. Or maybe he’s just something that was neglected for too long. People are like flowers, Miss R??i?ková. If you leave them without care or light, they don’t just wither. They grow wild, tangled, desperate—until there’s nothing left but thorns.”
I shake my head, unwilling to entertain his perspective. “You’re excusing him.”
“I’m not. But I’ve seen what happens to things left in the dark too long.” His fingers tap against the counter. “They forget how to reach for the light.”
His eyes find mine, and for the first time, I don’t see pity or sympathy. There’s only a quiet, sharp understanding staring back at me.
It unsettles me. It evokes sympathy for my captor.
Because if he understands Cain, what does that say about Grayson?
And worse … what does it say about me? How can this happen?
“He is a boy shattered at the core,” he goes on, keeping his eyes on the ground as if contemplating.
I’m out of words. I stare at him, my chest tight. I tell myself it’s just frustration. But deep down, I’m afraid it’s something worse. Something close to doubt.
Cain doesn’t deserve understanding. He doesn’t deserve sympathy. He’s cruel. He takes what he wants. He has stolen my freedom, my safety. So why do Grayson’s words get under my skin? Why do they make me hesitate?
A boy shattered at the core.
No. Cain isn’t a boy. Not anymore. He’s a man who chooses to hurt, to destroy—a man who turned his pain into a weapon. And yet …
I clench my fists, trying to steady my breath.
I don’t want to understand him. Because if I do, if I start to see the cracks beneath the monster, then what? What happens when my hatred isn’t enough to hold me together?
“You’d better have a good reason you’re back already.” Cain’s voice sounds from behind Grayson’s back, making me jump in surprise.
Grayson gives him a look and folds his hands in front of him, facing him.
“I just missed your arrogance, boy,” he attests, fearless of Cain.
Cain’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“Well, that makes one of us,” he hisses. “Though I can’t say I missed your old-man wisdom. Did you come back just to bore me to death?”
I can’t see Grayson’s expression because he has his back to me, but I can tell his posture is stiff. Cain, on the other hand, has his signature smirk plastered on his lips and his hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks. He must have just come back from work.
Then Grayson takes a few steps closer to him, extending his arms to his sides.
Cain’s smirk lingers for a second before changing into something else.
Something real. His face lights up with a rare smile, making the skin at the corners of his eyes crease.
And then, without hesitation, he steps forward and pulls Grayson into a hug, burying his face in his shoulder.
For a moment, the room feels different. Lighter. Warmer.
Does Cain actually have feelings?
I’ve only ever seen him as cold, ruthless, incapable of anything but control and cruelty. But this is something else. Something almost human.
Grayson pulls back, holds his smiling face in his palms, and studies him. “Look at you! Look how big you’ve become.”
“You were only gone for a few months, old man,” Cain replies, his tone unusually light. “You forget I’m not a kid anymore.”
So, he does have a human side!
My God, I’m dying to ask, but I hold my tongue. Instead, I stay silent and let this play out, curious to see where it leads.
“How could I forget that? You’re a head taller than me.”
Cain chuckles again and pulls back. “Now tell me. Why did you come back? How is she?” He pats Grayson’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.
How is who?
Grayson lowers his eyes and shakes his head. I can feel he doesn’t have anything positive to share.
“Grayson?”
“She didn’t make it,” Grayson exhales, his voice shaking.
Cain’s jaw flexes, and his eyes remain steady on Grayson, as if trying to conceal his emotions.
“It’s for the best,” he says coldly. I already know that human lives don’t mean anything to him, but I started believing that Grayson means something to him. Apparently, I was wrong again.
Strangely, Grayson nods sharply, as if he agrees. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Do you need me for anything?”
“Go and rest today, old man.”
Grayson raises his hand and pats Cain’s shoulder, just like he did before. “Have a good rest of the day, Cain.” He turns his eyes and looks at me. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss R??i?ková.”
I press my lips together. “You too, Grayson.”